Accidentally in Love
by BeWitchingRedhead36
Summary: On NYE 2014, one year after they bumped into each other at a bar and had a one night encounter, they meet up again at the same bar, on purpose this time. Sexy times ensue, which eventually lead to more encounters, but they are too stubborn to realize they may just be perfect for each other in a more than just friends-with-benefits kind of way. Eventual MaDi.
1. Chapter 1

**_Setting the scene: This is a follow up to 'What you Wish For,' a smutty little NYE one-shot I wrote exactly one year ago where Dick and Mac bump into each other in a bar, and end up having a little one night fling. Nothing really develops from it until you fast forward one year and they decide to meet up in the same bar, on purpose this time. I'm going to continue the same backstory Mac & Dick had in the first story, though for their besties, Logan & Veronica I'm borrowing elements from the movie and book, to set the timeline. _**

**_This will be a multi-chapter fic with sporadic "real time" updates. As always, they are the last people to realize just how much they mean to each other. If you haven't read 'What You Wish For' _****_you can still follow along well enough, but it's a short read. As always, I owe a BIG thank you to my very patient beta cainc3! I'm anal but she puts up with me anyway!_**

**_This story is rated M on purpose. As is apparently my tendency, this story is humor with a dash of angst. Enjoy!  
>Obligatory Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything. I do enjoy playing in this world though. (Sorry for all the technical issues I've had tonight!)<br>_**

**_Accidentally in Love_**

**_Chapter 1—Same Time, Same Place, Different Year_**

Mac took a big fortifying sip of her Cabernet Sauvignon and slammed it down on the bar, in front of her, louder than she meant to.

_What the hell am I doing here_, she asked herself for probably the hundredth time in the twenty minutes or so she'd been at the _Neptune Corner Bar_. It wasn't that she was hoping to see Dick Casablancas again, she sternly told herself.

That was a lie, a **bold** faced lie.

Dick Casablancas was the only reason she was having a drink in that seedy hellhole. They'd made tentative plans to meet up tonight, _if_ they were both dateless. Well shit, that had become her default setting these days. She didn't know the Facebook relationship status of Neptune's _Duke of Manwhore-dom_ though.

They'd made those "penciled in plans" last month when they bumped into each other in line at the Sack N Pack. She'd made an emergency beer run to make it through Thanksgiving dinner at the Sinclair's.

Hell, knowing Dick he'd already forgot about this meet-up. _Medicinal_ brownies killed brain cells, right?!

Last year, she came here with the intent to hide out, to avoid the world, or at least people in her narrow orbit. Instead, she bumped into Dick, who was doing some New Years Eve hiding of his own. They started talking and had formed a connection. Well, a physical one, at any rate. It wasn't any deeper than the silk sheets that covered them as they made that connection of the carnal persuasion.

It was just world-rocking sex that was drawing her here.

Whatever happened, well, happened. She'd have a drink either way. If he showed fine; if not, at least she had a glass of wine, and a break from posting a fake smile on her face while making small talk with strangers she was blood related to. It wouldn't be a total loss. She could still afford a glass of wine these days. In a couple of weeks she'd be starting a new job and taking a major pay cut. She figured she might as well enjoy a few luxuries while there were still a few dollars left in her piggy bank. Though, on second thought, having a drink in this neighborhood bar probably didn't fall under the category of luxe.

Illusions? Yeah, she had a couple of those already; why not add another one to the growing list.

The biggest illusion she had working right now was the seamless blending of her two families—the Mackenzies who had raised her, and the Sinclairs, who had given her life. That happened all because of a snafu at Neptune Memorial, ground zero of Neptune's own personal Hellmouth. She and sworn enemy _numero uno_—Madison Sinclair—had gone home with the wrong families. They were now a full year into the new arrangement, the one where they had frequent parties and Sunday dinners playing the one big, happy, blended family charade.

It was anything but seamless, but that was a bridge she kept selling herself. Her entire 'happy' family was in on that _façade_ too, operating on the 'fake it til you make it' philosophy.

Not everything in that charade was a total loss; something real had come out of this year of changes. She and Lauren Sinclair were forging some kind of label-less, but genuine relationship. It started slow, but now they were texting like old friends and they met for dinner a couple times a month without the rest of the family. Even things with Madison was less toxic, the death-glares she liked to gift Mac with weren't as heated as they once were. Her pointed barbs were less venomous.

_Baby steps._

Mac made another furtive glance at the time displayed on her cell; it was only three minutes later than her last check in. Dick wasn't a poster boy for promptness, but it was almost thirty minutes past their suggested meeting time, he wasn't coming. She'd have to check the sky when she left, there must be a couple pigs that had grown wings. Dick—_slut of Balboa County_—Casablancas must have found true love. Well, kudos to him, there was hope for everyone, evidently.

Even sure things—like hot monkey sex with Dick—weren't always sure.

Feeling dejected, with a dash of rejected, and not in the mood to dig too deeply into the _why's_, Mac took another sip of her wine.

_~~~~~/~~~~~/~~~~~/~~~~~/~~~~/~~~~~/_

_Shit_! Dick muttered to himself. He tapped his fingers' on the steering wheel. The digital clock on the dashboard of his shiny, new, black Chevy quadcab truck clicked over to 10:24. He was so fucking late to meet Mac at the _Neptune Corner Bar_.

He took quick advantage of being stuck at the world's slowest traffic light to fire off a quick text to what he hoped was still her number.

**_Dick: Stay put. On my way…_**

Logan had left his cell on the kitchen counter that morning while he took a quick shower to wash that Ronnie-smell out of his Military hair, and so Dick took full advantage of the opportunity fate granted him to scroll through his contacts. He text'd himself Mac's number. She was listed as "Tech-Mac." Hopefully the dude kept a current contact list, otherwise, she'd be long gone by the time the light switched to green and he found a parking space—no easy feat on the last day of 2014.

He had been at the office, his favorite mistress these days, his company, PLT Enterprises, catching up on some end of the year paperwork and lost track of the time.  
>PLT stood for Phoenix Land Trust, a shell company Cassidy had started. It had taken several years, but Dick had done what many had deemed impossible and legitimized it. The new name was an attempt to distance itself from it less than stellar beginning.<p>

Other than PLT Enterprises, his only other love these days was those magic brownies.

Surfing and brownies on the weekends, and work during the week—those were the only things in his life that allowed him to keep a wire-thin tether on his sanity. With those distractions at hand he didn't have the time to focus on what a shit brother he had been to Cassidy, all the pain he caused to other people, what a waste-of-space he had been in his first 21 years or so on this planet, and other topics that kept his guilt-train running the tracks these days.

Some people—_Logan!_—said it wasn't much of a life, but it worked for him. Or it had been working, at least.

After their one night fling almost exactly one year ago, they both went their own way and he didn't lump her as _the one that got away_, or any clichéd shit like that.

Now, though, since Logan got off the boat and reconnected with Ronnie, it was only in retrospect that Dick even realized he'd been lonely.

_Lonely_! He hated that word; it conjured up images of dirty apartments littered with empty ice cream cartons and 50 cats smelling up the place.

The incessant honking of the horn of the car behind him brought him out of his headspace. The stoplight had finally turned green. After giving a one-finger salute in the rearview mirror, Dick took his foot off the brake and continued driving straight on Main Street. He went another three blocks before making a left on 7th Street. By some Parking God miracle he found a space just three doors down from his destination.

As he was about to exit the truck his attention was diverted to the ping of an incoming text on his cell. He glanced at it and smiled.

**_Mac: You have fifty seconds, starting now…_**

He figured it would take twenty of those allotted seconds to respond, and knowing her, she was probably tracking his time right now anyway. He shook his head, tucked his phone in his pocket and got out the vehicle, hitting the key fob to lock up.

_~~~~~/~~~~~/~~~~~/~~~~~/~~~~/~~~~~/_

Mac glanced at her cell again; making sure the text from Dick wasn't a mirage, a trick of her eye. She sighed, and then beckoned over the overworked and definitely underpaid bartender for a refill of wine, since it looked like she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. She asked to start a tab, too. Dick, barring a cold snap in hell, would probably be drinking his weight in beer tonight.

She fired off a quick response, and then took a sip of the wine that had just been placed in front her.

Less than a minute and a half after his deadline, the door chimed, announcing a new arrival.

Mac turned around and saw Dick enter the place, looking around. He found her and smiled, making his way to the bar tucked in the back of the narrow establishment.

He remembered last year when he'd tried to avoid her, but of course—fortunately!—that plan was an epic fail. She spotted him immediately and called him out on his intent to hide from her, and the rest of the world. She hadn't fit into his pity party plans, but it didn't take long for him to realize that what he'd really needed was a connection, to feel like he mattered to someone, even if it was just an illusion.

He felt normal when he was around Mac; he thought maybe, other than Logan of course, the last time he felt that way was back at Hearst with Chip and the other Pi Sigs. Hell, he hadn't thought of those losers for a long time.

"You're late," Mac announced before he could sit down on the stool beside her. She pointed to her cell for emphasis. It was her way of greeting him.

"Hey, long time, no see," Dick said, ignoring her proclamation. He smiled. "You look good. I like eager to please brunettes."

"Eager to please brunettes?" Mac echoed, but it was asked in the form of a question. She shook her head.

"You heard me, Mackenzie."

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"You were certainly eager to please last year," Dick clarified. He put up his index finger as the bartender looked his way, to signal he was ready to order. The guy nodded once in response.

"I don't think this is going to work," Mac said. She rummaged through her purse for some cash.

"This?"

"Whatever you thought this night was going to be about," Mac tried to explain.

"Look Mac, don't go. I'm sorry, I won't be myself, I promise."

She laughed at the earnest expression on his face. The tension was broken. "Is that what people told you when you were growing up, don't be yourself?"

"That is a small sampling of Mommy Dearest's famous pep talks," Dick said to her, before ordering a _Guinness_ from the bartender standing in front of him.

"It's not all bad being yourself," Mac admitted. "You can be yourself, I guess. Well, somewhat yourself, at least. How about a less assholey version of yourself?"

"So, what was that about?" Dick asked, changing the subject.

She cocked her head at his non-sequitur.

"Don't pretend you don't know that I'm referring to your escape attempt."

"Oh yeah, that" Mac replied. She took a deep breath, "um…" Stalling, she took a sip of wine.

Dick waved his hand impatiently in a 'go on' gesture, but waited quietly for Mac to speak.

"I'm not looking for anything, I'm not saying that, but you made me feel like a whore, I guess, I don't know…we were starting to build a friendship of sorts."

"A naked friendship," Dick corrected, "but continue."

"Okay, naked friendship, but still a notch above acquaintance-ship."

"Why the hell would you assign me that much power, Mackenzie? You're a smart chick, and I was just joking. It's what I do. Can we start over?"

"There's no need to do that. We'll just move on. I overreacted." She left the _as usual_ unsaid, but it hung there anyway.

"Done and done." Dick took a big drink from the beer the bartender had just placed in front of him. "For the record, I like naked friendships, they're the best kind."

"Are you trying to tell me that's what you have with Logan?"

"Gross!" Dick scowled at the thought. He gave an exaggerated shudder. "I love the dude, but, yeah, ewww. I meant I like having naked friendships with girls," he clarified.

"Women," Mac not so gently corrected.

"Chicks."

"Women."

"Ladies."

"Women," Mac repeated for what felt like the fifty-third time. She pushed back an errant strand of hair that had fallen in her face. Her short hairdo had grown out a bit in the past year, it was in that annoying mid-growth stage where it was still too short to wear in a ponytail but still long enough that it kept spilling in her eyes.

"What is wrong with the term _ladies_?"

"What's wrong with the term women?" Mac countered. "I keep suggesting my preferred terminology and you just will not budge."

"That's right," Dick said proudly, with a trademarked shit-eating grin. He watched as that same strand of blondish-brown hair once again plotted its escape and fell back in Mac's face. He reached over, and pushed it back behind her cute little ear. He hadn't planned to do that, but judging from the shy smile she gave him, she didn't mind at all.

"Stubborn."

"Back 'atcha babe," Dick said, and then upon noticing the glare that replaced her smile, backtracked a bit, "I mean, back 'atcha _woman_." He gave her a triumphant grin. "What? I used your preferred terminology this time and everything."

She huffed a sigh, and tried to bite back a smile, but it came through anyway.

It was 11:03 PST according to the television screen in front of them. A rebroadcast of CNN's New Year's Eve special was airing, and Kathy Griffin was pretending to pick something out of her cohost Anderson Cooper's hair just to get a rise out of him.

"Less than an hour left of 2014," Dick remarked. "Thank God."

"I'll drink to that," Mac replied, following through with a big gulp of wine. "Good riddance."

They clinked glasses in a toast to the end of 2014.

"I heard a rumor recently that you're coming back to our fair city."

"If by _our fair city_, you mean iniquitous hellhole then you would be correct. Who would be the source of that intel?"

"Logan."

"Of course! Only one person—my future boss—was privy to that covert piece of gossip, so Logan must have got that gossip straight from the source."

"Ronnie always did have a big mouth," Dick said.

"Well, it's her news to share, technically. Though, since I haven't given notice to my current employer, yet, I wasn't planning on taking out a billboard on the PCH," Mac defended her friend.

"What would your billboard say?"

"Suck it Kane Software!"

"I like it. That might be the best way to quit that I heard yet. Though I did have one employee tweet _I quit_. That's an idea for you, less old-school than a billboard."

"That's right, you're a business owner," Mac said, hitting her head with her palm, her elbow made contact with her wine glass but didn't knock it over. Dick's hand moved toward it automatically, as though to prevent accidental spillage, but the crisis was averted as he was in transit.

"Watch it, klutz-o, you almost knocked your drink over in your shock over my employment status."

"But I didn't," she said, dismissively. "I don't know about shock, okay yeah, maybe shock," Mac admitted. "Why did the guy twitter-quit?"

"I like actually tried to make him work, and shit. So, why are you quitting Kane Software?"

"They tried to make me work, and shit," Mac parroted back. Then she added, "It's actually a subsidiary of Kane, Echo Bravo Security, up in San Diego. I was ready for a change." Mac said, frowning slightly. "That's the party line I'm telling people. Honestly, I have too much family shit going on right now, living a couple hours away isn't working any more. Veronica is back now and working for her dad. She offered me a job that pays about a fourth of the salary I was making running my own office, so you know, how could I say no to that?!" She let out a mirthless laugh, and took a big sip of her wine.

Dick let out a wolf's whistle. "That's an offer you can't refuse," he said in a _Godfather_ voice over.

"Beats the alternative of cement loafers, I guess."

They shared a laugh, and then Dick grew pensive. "Define family shit."

Mac didn't say anything at first. She looked down at her glass like it was an oracle with wisdom to share. She traced the rim with her finger.

He noticed her frown. "Sorry, Mac. I understand if you don't want to talk about it, you might not know this, but I have experience myself with family shit." He put a hand on her shoulder.

It tingled.

"I have two families," Mac barely muttered.

"Your parents are divorced?" Dick said, incredulously. He leaned in closer.

"Nope!" Mac said quickly, before her voice got softer, "I have a biological family and the people that raised me."

"Oh, you're adopted. I didn't know that," he looked surprised.

"No and no," Mac said flatly. "Did you know that Hollywood didn't actually invent the whole baby-switching plotline to give the people at _Lifetime _fodder for made-for-TV movies?"

"You? That happened to you?" Dick sputtered out, his complexion wan, or so it appeared to Mac, but with the harsh overhead fluorescent lighting and the green and red neon from the beer signs festooning the walls she couldn't be certain. He shifted his position a little, enveloping her in a hug.

"Me, and someone else you know."

"Veronica?" He wasn't confident in his guess.

Mac just shook her head, and severed the embrace. "Not Veronica. It's one of your former bed mates."

Dick mentally ticked through the names of his former conquests.

"Need a hint?" Mac couldn't help the hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

"Just tell me."

"Okay, but only since I don't plan to be here all night," Mac gave in. "Madison Sinclair."

"No fucking way…" Dick looked like he wanted to argue.

"Yes fucking way," Mac snapped. "Get me a refill of wine, or, I don't know, the whole bottle and I'll tell you my life story." She picked up her wine glass and in what seemed to be one giant gulp finished the contents.

Dick waved the bartender over, and ordered a refill on both her wine and his beer.

He put his arm back around Mac to hug her again.

"You don't have to tell me any more details, if you don't want to," he murmured into her hair.

"I want to," Mac said, without hesitation. "I want to talk about it," she repeated, surprised.

The bartender came back with their drinks, and Mac pulled away from his embrace. She immediately picked her glass up and took a sip, before setting the glass back down, keeping one hand around the rim. She held it so tightly her knuckles turned white with the effort.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Mac closed her eyes and began to speak. "Madison was supposed to be a Mackenzie; I was born a Sinclair. The geniuses at Neptune Memorial got confused I guess, the error wasn't discovered until 1992. Veronica found out for me our junior year at Neptune…" Mac let her voice trail off for a beat. She released her iron grip on the glass.

"The weird thing is that I think, on some deep down level, I knew the truth the whole time. I always felt like I'd just been dropped on my parents' doorstep or something like that. I never belonged, and it went beyond the fact that we look nothing alike, my parents and I." She stopped right there and clinched her eyes shut as though to stop the tears threatening to escape, but one renegade drop leaked out anyway. She turned away to covertly cover up the evidence.

Dick noticed anyway and firmly, but tenderly, turned her head so she was looking at him. He reached up and wiped another tear away.

"Thanks," she murmured, reluctantly pulling back a little bit. "Anyway, last year, on my 25th birthday in fact, my parents' came clean, Madison's parents did the same thing. I'd never told mom that I knew the truth, too chickenshit, I guess."

"That's not chickenshit, Mac. It wasn't your job to mention it. None of what happened was your fault." Dick said firmly, but in a caring tone.

Mac looked up, surprised. She once again grabbed her glass, and took another sip.

"None of it," Dick echoed. "They chose to keep it from you, with good intentions, I'm sure." he hastened to add. "I wouldn't even begin to guess how you'd bring up that conversation."

"Yeah, I never figured that one out, either, obviously." A half smile peaked out. "We've been one big blended family this entire year. It gets complicated. I'm overflowing with family these days." Mac said still smiling, until her brain caught up with her mouth. She blushed, clapped the hand not holding her wineglass over her mouth, and then muttered, "Oh shit, Dick. I'm sorry. What a stupid thing to say." She mentally berated herself for bitching about having too much family to someone that didn't have any at all.

He shoulder checked her. "Mac, calm down there. It's okay. That's not a stupid thing to say. Trust me; I'm an expert on saying stupid things."

"Touché," Mac said. "You could probably get a Master's in it."

"Doctorate," he corrected. "What do you think of Lauren? I always thought she was the nicer Sinclair."

"She's great," Mac gushed. "We've really connected in the past year."

The uptick of noise from the other patrons of the bar started to intrude in the little cocoon Mac and Dick had built around themselves as she bared her Gothic secret.

Life was funny. Even two years ago she wouldn't have guessed Dick would have been one of a handful of people she let in on such a painful, bruise of a subject.

They looked up at the screen and saw it was now 11:57 PM.

It was starting to sound like a party; other patrons were laughing and starting to sing _Auld Lang Syne_ in drunken, off key voices.

"Do they hand out complimentary ear plugs with the champagne?" Mac asked.

"If you need earplugs, then that just means you aren't drunk enough yet, Ghostworld?"

"Ghostworld?" Mac repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Let's just put that nickname on ice."

"Let it swim with the fishes?" Dick brought out his Mafioso voice again.

"I'll make _you_ swim with the fishes," Mac tried to sound threatening.

"You're cute when you're menacing."

"Yeah, because that's what I was going for…" Mac snarked.

Their banter was put on pause when the bartender turned up the volume on the television.

11:59.

They watched the numbers on the screen begin counting down…

10…9…8

Dick watched as Mac wet her lips.

7…6…5

Mac watched Dick roll his broad—sexy—shoulders. His foot made contact with hers.

4…3…2

The ball dropped, and a sign came up proclaiming it to be 2015.

Their eyes met, then their lips. Mac leaned in closer, draping her arms around his shoulders.

Dick placed a hand on her leg for purchase. Their _Happy New Years_ kiss deepened. He plunged his tongue in her mouth; she opened wider, allowing his tongue to explore her teeth terrain.

Reluctantly they broke apart, Mac glanced down briefly and saw Dick's hardened state.

He bit his lip at the predatory look in her face. It only made him harder, something he hadn't thought possible.

"Check, please!" They said in tandem to the bartender right in front of them.

After settling the tab and leaving a generous tip, they gathered their things and made their way to the door. Spilling out into the cool night, they walked less than a block down 7th Street before coming upon a cab that was out trawling for drunks.

Dick gave the driver his address. She wasn't certain, but she thought maybe this was the same driver they had last year. How many cab drivers did Neptune have, she idly wondered as the scenery sped by and Dick studied her out of the corner of his eye. He thought he was being sly about it. It was cute.

She was finding way too many things about him cute.

_Sex, Mackenzie_, she silently reminded herself. _Mind blowing New Year's Eve sex, nothing more. _

Dick's thoughts aligned pretty closely with hers. He watched her bite her lip and play with her hair as the driver sped through the quiet streets of Neptune.

He remembered how she looked last year, as she moaned underneath him. Her hair was shorter, and it had been streaked red instead of blond, but otherwise she looked the same sitting beside him in the present as she had exactly 365 days ago.

Finally the driver pulled up to his condo, he gave the guy a twenty.

Dick grabbed her hand and led her through the lower level of his condo not even stopping as he pointed out the kitchen, powder room, and living room. She noted it looked vaguely like how she remembered it as they raced up the stairs to his bedroom.

Mac flopped down onto the bed, with Dick rolling her over onto her belly. He set to work removing her blouse, up and over her head, as she shimmied out of her jeans. Soon she was just in red satin panties and a matching bra.

"More color coordinating, you vixen," Dick said, ending with a growl. He liked how her under garments matched his walls. Last year was coincidence, this year he suspected it was by design.

She purred as his hands kneaded and worked their way up her back.

Dick straddled her legs, being careful to distribute his weight to his knees so as not to squash her. He traced circles. "Is this too hard?"

"Perfection," she sighed, arching into his skillful manipulation.

Continuing the massage, Dick leaned over kissing a trail up her spine. She felt the heat building within, as he pressed his penis against her as he leaned in to relieve the tension in her neck.

"Now," she groaned, digging her short nails into the bed. "I need you inside of me…Now." Her need made her demanding.

"Someone is eager," he leered, "See, you really are an eager to please brunette." He waited a beat, before adding, "Oh, I'm sorry. Does that offend you? Do you need to leave now?"

"Alright, you made your point," Mac acquiesced, but she muttered _asshole_ under her breath.

"I may be an ass, but I'm an ass that knows what he's doing in bed."

"You have years of practice," Mac reminded him.

"When you love what you do, it shows. I take pride in my work." He deftly rolled Mac onto her back, leaning down to kiss her. His tongue explored her mouth, his hands gently kneading her full breasts.

The urge to burrow inside her was reaching a crescendo. Reluctantly Dick pulled away, but just long enough to grab a condom from the drawer of his bedside table.

"Aren't you a regular Boy Scout, prepared for every contingency," Mac said in a breathless tone. "A very slutty Boy Scout," she qualified, helping him put the sheath over his enlarged penis. Turned out her memory hadn't exaggerated the size of it.

"Now, where were we?"

"Let me show you," Mac said, doing just that.

She guided his hand back to her right breast, as he positioned her legs to make a clear path to her vagina.

He stretched out on his stomach, feet dangling over the edge of the bed frame. As he licked her outer lips, he watched her arch her chest and moan. She shifted forward so his tongue made direct contact with her clit.

Mac ran her fingers through his hair, as electric pulses resonated through his circuits. Her taste filled his senses.

Dick's tongue continued its exploration, picking up speed. Mac moaned and writhed underneath, her hands mussing his hair. He felt her quaking upon climax. The feeling broke over her, causing her to emit a primal scream.

Mac snaked a hand down to softly massage Dick's penis, making sure it was still hard…It was. He shifted up a little bit in preparation. She arched her back again as he braced his hands and plunged deeper inside.

He groaned in ecstasy, she was so tight.

He thrust deeper inside.

Mac gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his back.

Dick bit his lip as he was drug under by the shimmering orgasm. Seconds later Mac joined him, letting out another brief scream before sinking into him in relief.

"Happy New Year's Mac," he whispered in her ear.

"Happy 2015, Dick," she murmured.

Exhausted, they fell asleep curled up around each other, dreaming of the New Year and all the promises it held.

**_TBC…_**

**_Happy 2015! Have a safe & happy New Year!_**

**_***Love it? Hate it? M'eh? Reviews are always appreciated***_**


	2. Chapter 2--Moving Day

**_A/N: An update for you all. I hope this first month of 2015 has been a good one for everyone! I'd hoped to update earlier than this, but I've been dragging this month, not really feeling that great. But I had a burst of more energy this weekend and ran with it! Hope you like it. This chapter is rated M for a reason. As always, a HUGE thank you to my wonderful beta, cainc3! Thank you to everyone for reviewing, following, favorite-ing, and of course reading! Enjoy!_**

**_Obligatory disclaimer-I don't own anything in the VM 'verse! I do enjoy playing in it though..._**

**_Accidentally in Love_**

**_Chapter 2—Moving Day_**

**_January 25, 2015_**

Mac took a look around the living area of her new loft apartment in downtown Neptune.

Day 1 of her life sentence was now commencing.

Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows, casting shadows on the gleaming wood floors. The walls were cranberry red. The galley kitchen had stainless steel appliances. It was a beautiful place, and probably way more a month than she should be spending; her five years as a Kane associate, three of those spent running her own division gave her a healthy balance in her savings account. It would offset the loss of income coming in now that her salary at Mars Investigations was $55,000.

Yes, she was well-aware that the fact she "only" made over fifty thousand dollars now was in the category of first world problems, especially when factoring in the fact she was only 26 years old. Her dad, Sam, the dad that raised her, didn't make much more than that, and it only happened on a good year, and the last time he'd had a 'good year' was two years ago.

Yes, she kept tabs on her parentals' finances; after all she needed to keep her hacking skills sharp. That was her weak ass self-justification.

Boxes were dumped haphazardly throughout the large living area. Her bed frame was in pieces on the floor. Her big computer desk was not reassembled. The computers themselves were snugly tucked into boxes she'd lovingly packed herself, and they were heavily cushioned with several blankets, to assure their safety in the variety of nightmarish scenarios that had ran through her mind. Her computers were her _children_, after all.

Mac took another glance around her new pad and sighed. She spared no expense with the apartment, but she tried to skimp on the moving team. She found a cut rate company online and discovered the hard way that their customer service was no-rate.

They did a dump and leave, and she had no idea where to even begin, there was just so much work to be done. She needed an assistant, a helper, someone big and strong.

_Dick._

The name came to her suddenly, maybe a little too sudden.

Her dad would be thrilled to help his little girl, but he was getting older, and she didn't want to risk his old bones. Even Ryan probably would've pinched hit for just the price of a six pack, well, maybe a couple six-packs, but he had said something the other week about some weekend trip with the new girlfriend. She made a mental note to interrogate him on that at the next family dinner she was forced into attending.

Logan was another one she crossed off the list as soon as the name came to her. He had some mandatory two week Navy officer training thingy in some tropical locale. She only half listened to Vee's litany of complaints about the rigors of being a Navy gal pal.

It was either Dick or do it herself.

She'd be lying if she said he hadn't been on her mind at all since she'd spent NYE with him almost a month ago. Bits and pieces of his sexual artistry came to her at odd times, usually in the dark of her bedroom. Neither of them had talked, or texted, since their one overnight. It had been a busy January.

She had waited until the last possible second to contact Jake Kane—yes, they were on a first name basis—via Skype. At the conclusion of her state of the business recap, Mac took a deep breath and muttered out that she was serving her notice.

It went even worse than she'd imagined, and despite trying to force herself more towards the glass half full philosophy, life had put her more in the half empty category since practically birth.

Her lessons in positivity were not paying off.

Jake hemmed and hawed for fifty minutes about how he hand plucked her, groomed her, and how she was shitting on the best thing life had ever given her. He never came out and shoved her '02'er upbringing in her face, but it was only because he'd so beautifully implied it that using the words 'poor white trash' would have been merely verbal overkill. His ego was in need of popping, but it was only her bio dad, Bob Sinclair's executive advice _never burn bridges_ that held her back.

She gritted her teeth, before muttering how much she appreciated the opportunity but felt she needed to move back to Neptune.

The second those words had slipped from her big mouth, she realized her mistake. Jake had a predatory gleam in his eye as he asked why she didn't just say that in the first place, there _happened _to be a job waiting for her at the headquarters.

More verbal backpedaling on her part led to the reveal that she'd already accepted a position as Technical Analyst at Mars Investigations.

_Stupid…Stupid…Stupid._

His already beady eyes narrowed into mere slits, one side of his mouth twisted up. Mac swore she could smell smoke that seemed to come out of his ears. His facial expression could only be called feral at her non-verbal "mention" of Veronica's name. Voila, that right there just eviscerated the Kane Software _Bridge_ she'd been building brick by brick for her entire "real job" career. There went her 'don't burn bridges' career plan. Oh well, being part of the Kane establishment had never been a source of pride for her, anyway.

During her two week notice it was like working for a stranger. Her inner sanctum membership had been permanently revoked. She was thrilled when that sentence was up, but then of course that meant she still had three years of life created in San Diego to pack up into boxes and cram into about one third of an eighteen wheeler truck.

It was back straining work, but she was glad that she gave herself several dedicated days to get that task and a half completed. Now that she was in her new place those chores started all over again, only now she had to unpack all her amassed belongings to create a brand new life back in her hometown.

Resisting the urge to scream, Mac dug through her messenger bag to retrieve her cell. She scrolled through until she found Dick's number. He was probably busy doing some form of nothing at all, she thought to herself, already trying to talk herself out of begging him to 'white knight' rescue her overwhelmed damsel self.

Mac: **_Whatcha doin?_**

She put down the cell, and flopped down in front of one of the zillions boxes, inventorying the contents. It was marked _kitchen_, and held sundry appliances and gadgets. She was surprised to hear the ping of an incoming text so soon. She picked up the phone, and smiled at the return missive.

Dick: **_Reading A Tale of Two Cities_**

Mac: **_Your lips must be exhausted._**

Dick: **_That's What She Said._**

Mac: **_I was going to see if you were up to helping me arrange some furniture in my new pad, but since you're busy…_**

Dick: **_I have a bookmark; know how to use it and everything. What's your address?_**

Mac: **_1275 Sixth Street, Apartment 4F_**

Dick: **_Twenty minutes, and I like sausage, pepperoni and bacon on my pizza._**

Mac: **_Thanks! See you then. We'll work, and then I'll feed you. Gotta earn your keep!_**

She turned the phone off and set it on the bar in the kitchen.

Going on prior experience, Mac was sure it would be closer to forty-five minutes before he showed up, but being he was helping her out for the price of a pizza, she couldn't really bitch about it. So she was surprised to hear the ringing from the intercom less than fifteen minutes later.

Mac buzzed him up.

She had the door to her loft opened before he finished his first knock.

"The prodigal returns," Dick exclaimed as greeting.

"And to think I'd actually been one of those that actually succeeded in escaping," she volleyed back, stepping off to the side to grant him entrance. "Well, not any more, obviously."

"It's all illusion," he explained. "Once this place sucks you in, it never lets go."

"Neptune's tentacles are firmly grasping me now, I guess." She said, and followed it up with a big, put out sigh.

"I'm not complaining," Dick added. "Glad you're back in the belly of this beast. Here's a little advice though, since you're a newbie all over again, check who it is before buzzing anyone up to your apartment. Didn't they have crime in the big, bad city of San Diego?"

Mac rolled her eyes. "I've been back all of ten minutes. Plus, I knew it was you."

She waved over at her pile of worldly possessions stacked haphazardly.

Dick surveyed the stack of boxes, and furniture not yet reassembled. He whistled. "Holy crap Batman! What did you do, drive a U-Haul up here and just dump in the middle of the room?"

"That's pretty close to what happened. Evidently when it came to the bargain basement movers I hired, I got what I paid for."

"You got taken," Dick said, unnecessarily. "So first, what boxes go where?" He got down on his knees, searching each box for the label Mac had scrawled in her messy hand writing.

She flopped down beside him, and they sorted each one by area; kitchen, living room knick knacks, bedroom, bathroom.

Mac loved the floor plan of her new _luxe_ digs. The main area consisted of a big kitchen with a breakfast bar, a small dining alcove, and a huge living room. Realtors described it as an open plan, perfect for entertaining. She shuddered at the thought of hosting combined family gatherings once word got out that she was local, and had such a large apartment to herself. She'd just describe it as a studio apartment and not invite anyone over **_ever_**, there problem solved.

There was a winding staircase that led to the upstairs bedroom and bathroom. It was also open spaced, with just a half wall to give the illusion of privacy.

Dick stood up and stretched, taking in his surroundings. "So," he began, gesturing towards the bedroom, "any idea on how to get the bed upstairs? It's not exactly a wide set of stairs."

"Um, very carefully?" Mac's tone was softly questioning.

"Rephrase, how am _I_ going to get this bed upstairs?"

"Carefully," Mac said again, as a statement this time. "Very, very carefully."

"Aw, you care."

"About my bed, yes, I absolutely care about where I'm going to sleep," she qualified, then smirked at him.

They set to work getting some semblance of order to the chaos on the main floor. After she spelled out where she wanted the furniture laid out, Dick did the manual labor as Mac started putting her meager kitchen accessories away. She also supervised his placement skills, making "helpful" suggestions along the way.

"Make up your fucking mind, woman," she heard Dick mutter after she had him adjust her black faux leather sectional a little more to the left.

To be honest, it was the fourth, or maybe even fifth, positional tweak she'd had him make in the past three minutes.

Mac tried unsuccessfully to bite back her smile. At least she seemed to have broken him of the "chick" habit after their little discussion in the bar on New Years. _Perhaps Dick Casablancas wasn't totally hopeless_, she mused to herself before covertly placing a hand over her brow to check for fever. _She'd train that boy, yet. Um, make that guy_, she self-corrected.

They reassembled her computer desk set, together, in the dining area. At Dick's wry expression at her interior design choice, she explained that the breakfast bar would be the perfect locale for eating.

"What about those dinner parties you love to host?"

"Have we met? I'm Mac, and my spécialité _de la maison_ is I order some wicked take out."

"Online, no doubt."

"That's right," Mac affirmed. "Why deal with people if you don't have to?"

"Aw, you're one of _those._" Dick looked down at the assembly instructions and shook his head. The end result of their assembly skills seemed to match the picture.

"One of what?" Mac asked sharply. If she had hackles, they'd be up.

"Anti-social nerds."

Her face fell at that, and Dick felt instantly contrite. "Um, less than social, smart people?" he tried again.

She let out a bark of laughter at his lame attempt at backpedaling.

"I'm not anti-social," she said at last.

He was a little surprised she took more umbrage at that part than the nerd label. He apparently hit a nerve he wasn't aware was just under the surface.

"I didn't mean in an escape to the Rockies and plan to blow people up kind of way," Dick attempted to clarify. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know you didn't," she admitted. "I just seem to get called that a lot these days."

"Who else called you that?"

"My sister from another mother, you know, the mother that raised me."

"Ah, Madison," Dick said, knowingly. "Since when do you take anything that comes out of the mouth of that toxic bitch seriously?"

"Since everyone else seemed to agree with her diagnosis," Mac said. She walked around the desk, inspecting it.

"Well, they're the people that birthed her, and the ones that raised her," Dick said as though that explained everything, which to his mind it did.

"Maybe, but they're the same people that birthed me, and then the same ones that raised me, except in opposite order," Mac explained, illustrating the gaps in his logic. She knelt down and shook one of the desk legs, it didn't seem like it was on the verge of collapse.

"That is one of the most complicated sentences I've ever heard."

"It also sums up my life and family, as does the word complicated."

"It's the Neptune disease, kiddo."

Mac just raised a brow.

"It's the Neptune disease, woman?" Dick tried again.

Again, Mac went the non-verbal route and shook her head. "Hungry?" she asked, changing the subject. Tired of kneeling, she flopped down and crossed her legs.

"Starving! You have been running me ragged, no breaks. You're a mean boss," Dick grumped. "I, at least, let my employees take breaks." He flopped down beside her.

"I keep forgetting you make an honest living now."

"That's right; I've buried my financial bodies deeper than dear old dad did."

Big Dick's Ponzi scheme and sub-sequential jail time came rushing back to her the second those words vomited out of her mouth. Mac slapped a hand over her mouth, wishing feverently for a rewind button. "Oh shit, Dick. I suck! I didn't mean it like that, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay Mac, I believe you. I know you didn't mean that, but I know not everyone in our little piece of utopia feels that way. They are just sitting in wait for me to fuck things up and complete Big Dick's legacy. Hell…" he paused for a second, swallowing loudly. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up in the process. "Hell, I'm waiting for that, too."

"I'm not waiting for that. You are nothing like your dad, nothing. I've met him you know." She still couldn't look in his eyes.

"No, I didn't know that," Dick said. He waited a beat, "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," she agreed, and laughed. "Cass and I stopped by your house, to pick up something. I don't think you were home, but your dad was." She chanced a quick glance at Dick; he was frowning slightly as he studied his hands, probably the sting of hearing Cassidy's name again.

"I bet he made you feel like the most important person in the room," there was a bitter tinge in Dick's voice.

"He was charming," Mac admitted, reaching over and putting an arm around Dick. She drew him closer.

"The better for milking the gullible out of their hard earned cash," Dick said, the amount of bitterness in his tone increasing exponentially. "We better order the pizza before I lose my appetite." He did have to admit though; he liked the feel of her arms around him. He didn't realize how much, however, until she'd pulled away.

Mac grabbed onto the desk to help heave herself up. It didn't collapse or anything. There was a victory right there. She grabbed her cell off the breakfast bar and scrolled over to the right preset. "I'll order, you can get it. Cho's is only two blocks away." She'd already taken the liberty of programming a few close-by restaurants in her phone, though as Dick had pointed out, she did prefer to order online whenever possible.

"Was that part of why you chose this place, walking distance from take-out joints?"

"Partially, maybe," she admitted.

"No green stuff on my pizza," Dick called out as she was placing their order. He gave her a thumbs up when she got him a meat special.

"Fifteen minutes," she said disconnecting the call. Going over to her messenger bag still parked by the door, she dug through until she found her wallet, and removed two crisp twenty dollar bills from it. She put it in her pocket.

Before he left to get their pie, they sorted through the pieces of her bed frame that still littered the living room. They didn't agree on the way to put it back together.

Five minutes later they still hadn't come to a consensus but by then it was time for Dick to leave. Finding yet another thing to not agree on, he tried to refuse the cash for the pizza.

"Dick, just take the money," Mac said through gritted teeth.

"I'll just put it on my card."

"You saved me a shit ton of money, let me at least buy the pizza," she beseeched.

"A shit ton? I'm afraid I'm not up on that unit of measurement."

"No?! I thought all '09'ers had a shit ton of money and material stuff."

"Oh, yeah, that shit ton, that's right, I do have a shit ton of money, so let me buy dinner." Dick twisted her logic around to use against her.

"Okay, masterful job there, but you said you'd help me if I bought pizza."

"You win," Dick finally acquiesced. "But you owe me."

"Owe you?" Mac questioned, softly. "The pizza is payment for your brawny, he-man services."

"I mean, now you have to let me buy you dinner another time."

"Done," Mac said, just in the name of getting him out the door. She was getting hungry, too. She could fight that battle another time.

"Here," she said as she pressed her keys in his hand as he was walking out the door.

"Your spare set?"

"NO! My only set," she clarified in a voice that was usually reserved for talking to toddlers. "This is a loan, not a gift. Leave them on the counter when you get back."

Dick saluted before shutting the door behind him.

In the time Dick was gone, Mac managed to get three bulky pieces of her bed frame upstairs. Her elbow became collateral damage in the process though. She was rubbing it and wincing when he came back with the pizzas.

"Dinner mademoiselle," he announced as he set the steaming pies down in the kitchen. "What the hell kind of concoction did you get?"

"Mushrooms, green peppers and black olives with no cheese on gluten free crust," Mac explained. "It's delicious."

"Free what?"

"Gluten free," she reiterated, and then added "because of allergies" to cut off any more questions at the pass. She figured that Dick wouldn't find the real explanation sexy pillow talk. The doctor was hoping by going gluten free it would help with all her chronic stomach pain.

"Oh," Dick said. "Okay, to each their own, as they say." He poured himself into one of the stools as Mac grabbed a couple paper plates she'd stuffed in a cabinet. She gingerly grabbed a big slice of Dick's carnivorous treat by the crust and placed it on the plate as though afraid it would suddenly come alive. She heard him laughing at her, but it wasn't mean, more of a gentle mocking.

She washed her hands before dishing her own meal. After placing both plates on the bar, she tracked back to the fridge to grab a beer for Dick and a water for herself.

"Thanks," he murmured, before glancing down at the label. He'd never even heard of the brand, but he removed the cap and took a sip anyway. Not bad, but it had an unusual after taste to it.

"The beer's gluten free, too," Mac explained, this time it was her turn to laugh at him. "Kudos for not spitting it all over my new kitchen." She came back around and sat down on the stool beside Dick.

"It's not bad," he hedged.

"It's got alcohol."

"That's the main thing."

"I thought it was the only thing," Mac interjected. She took a bite of her pizza.

"Pretty much," he agreed, following that up by taking another sip of beer.

They sat there quietly for several minutes, enjoying their meal and not feeling a need to fill up the silence.

Dick was the first one to speak. "I was reading the first book in the _Game of Thrones_ series," the confession came out in a rush.

"What?!"

"I wasn't reading _A Tale of Two Cities_, when you texted me, I was reading _Game of Thrones_," Dick repeated.

"You know what I got out of that sentence?"

"That I am actually literate?"

"Yeah," Mac said.

"I didn't give you a good impression of me when we were growing up, did I?" Dick said. He wasn't sure he expected, or really wanted, an answer though.

"You're giving me a good impression now, the lie notwithstanding." Mac said instead. "Anyway, old habits," she said it dismissively, waving a hand as she said it. "I never thought you were dumb, but I never bothered to see what you tried to hide, and you're still doing that." The last bit was said with censure.

Not in the mood for a serious conversation, Dick just leered and said, "I can think of a new habit for us to pick up."

She just rolled her eyes, but he didn't get slapped so he considered that a check in the win column.

Dick did the dishes, which just meant he dug out a garbage sack and placed their used plates in it. Then they took the rest of the pieces of Mac's bed frame up the narrow staircase.

"Careful around that bend there," Mac was saying as they were heading up with Dick going backwards. They each had an end of one of the bars of the frame. "My elbow is still throbbing from where I banged it earlier."

"Klutz," he had barely got that out before his own shoulder connected with the railing. "Ouch, damn it."

Mac could hardly get out her 'I told you so' around her laughter.

A sweat soaked thirty minutes later they'd finally lugged up the entire bed, including mattress and box spring.

Then the "real fun" began—putting it together.

"Seriously Dick, it'll take like three seconds to find instructions online."

"I don't need directions, it's not rocket science."

"Well, no, maybe not, but I have to sleep here. I'd prefer if it didn't collapse in a heap."

They were sitting down on the wooden floor of the upstairs loft space with the pieces laid out in what was their best approximation of where everything was supposed to go in the finished product. It was in the same order they'd put it in earlier.

Mac cocked her head, looking at two of the black metal rods he had set on the left side. They were supposed to slide out and then snap into each connecting rod. It didn't seem right, so she reversed it so the one on the left was now on the right, and vice versa.

"Anal." Dick shook his head.

"Safety conscious," she corrected.

With Mac finally satisfied with the layout, they set to work assembling it. The most back-breaking part of that job was lugging the box springs and Queen Mattress onto the frame. She had dug out a set of 800 thread count purple cotton sheets, a housewarming gift from her bio mom.

At last, it was done. Dick was lying down on his back, staring up at the ceiling, stretching his stiff back.

"Counting tiles?" Mac asked, as she flopped down beside him.

"I was thinking perhaps we should do some quality control on the assemblage work." He looked over at her, and winked.

"Glad to see you're safety minded, too."

"Like the Boy Scout I never was."

"No? Why not?"

"The meetings cut into mom's standing pedicure appointments."

"Oh." Mac looked over at him. He'd shed his tee shirt sometime during the bed construction work. He was definitely ripped, she thought, stealing Veronica's description of Logan's new military bod. Then she forced any other lingering thoughts of her bestie's boy toy out of her mind, preferring to concentrate on the specimen of male lying half naked on her bed.

Continuing his little strip tease, he eased his jeans and boxer briefs down his legs and then carelessly tossed them off the bed. Mac tracked them as they landed in a heap in front of her bed.

Without warning, Dick gently pulled her until she was on top of him. She let out a yelp of surprise. "I have one law and you're violating it. If you climb Mount Dick you have to be naked." He started helping her with shirt removal.

At that Mac rolled off of him, saying primly, "and I have one rule you just violated, I won't "climb" anyone that refers to themselves in third person." Her shirt was now bunched around her neck.

"It's my VIBP's proper name."

"VIBP?"

"Very Important Body Part," he explained as though everyone should know that.

"Yeah, your brain," she scoffed.

"South of that."

"No, I knew what you were calling your VIBP; I'm just saying that's the anatomical part all you guys use to think with."

"Men," Dick corrected, with a smirk. "All us men use to think with. I can show you some of my _deeper _thoughts." He leaned over, distributing the rest of his weight on his knees as he continued working on shedding the rest of Mac's clothes, so they soon joined his pile. Straddling her now naked form, he bent over, kissing her neck. Arching back, she moaned underneath him as his tongue found a sensitive pulse point. She pushed his hands down until they were cupping her breasts; he teased her nipples into hardness, inciting even more moaning. Mac reached a hand up and found Dick's VIBP hard, and ready to play. She gentle caressed his balls, smiling softly at his intake of breath.

"You like that?" She asked. She patted the bed next to her in invitation and he rolled over so he was on his back again. Mac scooted down and positioned herself over his penis. She continued massaging his balls with her hands as her tongue worked its way up his shaft in little flicks until it reached the top. She traced the opening a couple times and then went down on him as though swallowing him whole. Mac studied Dick as she pleasured him. His eyes were shut, head tilted back, one hand was bunched up in the sheet as though he were trying to find purchase.

It wasn't long before Dick begged her to climb on top of him. "Please," he rasped, "I need to be inside you."

Being an invitation she couldn't refuse, Mac climbed on top of him. He worked on her breasts again, as they fell into rhythm. She plunged deeper, purring as he brushed against her clit. She felt like she was on the precipice of the breaking point, when she thought she heard a crack.

Her eyes popped open. "What the hell was that?"

"Nothing," Dick said, dismissively.

Mac plunged one more time and they both ended up crying out in tandem. Their moans, however, were followed quickly by the total collapse of the bed. A quick examination proved that the only victim was the bed, the frame in pieces around the mattress centerpiece.

"Now, that's what I call Earth shaking sex," Dick rasped.

"Or bed-breaking, at least," Mac amended. Apparently, she was going to be sleeping on the floor after all.

**_TBC…_**

**_***Love it? Hate it? M'eh? Please let me know. Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks for reading***_**


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